She was quiet for a long moment, staring into her mug like it held answers. Outside, the storm raged. Inside, the space felt smaller. More intimate. Like the world had narrowed to just them and this conversation.
"Abandoned," she said finally. "I felt abandoned. Like I wasn't worth fighting for. Like duty and pride politics mattered more to you than I did."
"Maeve—"
"Let me finish." She set her mug down, turning to face him. "I know that's not fair. Know you were trying to do what you thought was right. But fair doesn't matter when you're watching the person you..." She stopped. Started again. "When you're watching someone choose an obligation over you, fair doesn't matter. It just hurts."
"I'm sorry." He wanted to reach for her, pull her close, but forced himself to stay still. "For making you feel that way. For being too stubborn and proud to see what mattered until it was too late."
"And now?" Her gold-flecked eyes held his. "Now you show up after ten years claiming you've changed. Claiming you'd choose differently. How do I know you won't just leave again when duty calls?"
"You don't." The truth tasted bitter but necessary. "You have to trust that I mean what I say. That breaking Varric's orders to tell you about Hector's conspiracy proves I'm done choosing duty over you. That every choice I've made since coming back has been about standing with you instead of trying to control the situation."
"That's a lot of trust to ask for."
"I know." He did reach for her then, just his hand covering hers on the couch between them. "But I'm asking anyway. Not as your alpha. Not as someone trying to claim you. As your partner. As someone who's spent ten years becoming the lion worthy of standing beside you instead of in front of you."
"You think you're worthy now?"
"I think I'm getting there." His thumb stroked across her knuckles. She hadn’t pulled away yet. "I think showing up. Doingthe work. Choosing you over protocol. Those are steps toward earning what I threw away. But ultimately, you decide if I'm worthy. Not me."
She stared at their joined hands, conflict written across her features. Want warring with fear. Trust battling self-preservation.
"This is a mistake," she whispered.
"Probably."
"You're going to hurt me again."
"No. I won’t." He squeezed her hand gently. "But I can't promise perfection. Can't promise I won't screw up or make wrong calls. I can only promise I'll try. That I'll choose you when it matters. That I'll stand with you even when it's hard."
"That's not enough."
"Then tell me what is." He shifted closer, drawn by her warmth and the way her scent wrapped around him. "Tell me what you need and I'll do everything in my power to give it to you."
"I need—" Her voice broke. "I need to not want you this much. Need to not feel like I'm drowning every time you look at me. Need my lioness to stop recognizing yours as mate when I know better than to believe it."
He cupped her face with his free hand, thumb brushing her cheekbone. "What if the bond knows something your fear won't let you see?"
"Don't." But still, she didn't pull away. "Don't make this about fate or bonds or destiny. Make it about choice. About you choosing me. About me choosing to trust you."
"Then choose." His voice dropped lower, rougher. "Choose to trust that I've changed. Choose to believe I mean every word. Choose us, Maeve. Just once. Just now. And I swear I'll prove every day after that you made the right call."
She stared at him, gold bleeding into her eyes as her lioness rose to the surface. Her pulse fluttered in her throat. Her breath came faster. Every line of her body screamed want and need and fear all tangled together.
"Damn you," she whispered.
Then she kissed him.
Her mouth crashed into his, all heat and desperation and surrender wrapped in fury. He groaned, catching her waist and pulling her closer, tasting coffee and decision and the woman who'd haunted his dreams for a decade.
She climbed into his lap, legs straddling his hips, hands fisting in his hair. The kiss turned deeper, hungrier.
Dante broke away just enough to breathe, forehead pressed to hers. "Maeve?—"
"Shut up." She kissed him again. "For once in your life, just shut up and take what I'm giving you."
He did.
